Pig & Whistle, W10

Tris captures this place perfectly below but I am going to notch the place up a bit as I expected the place to be exactly as it was. For the avoidance of doubt (FTAOD) I like a venue that has racing on the screens (it’s a plus one for me for that component) and I had no complaints about my pint of Guinness. Also the landlady was delightful and I happily uplifted my use of card to £10 for my pint and a packet of Tayto S&V as I regard it as a stupid tax on me for not having cash in this type of pub. This was definitely a high testosterone venue with constant male affirmation on every shot on the pool table. I had a couple of nice winners at Hereford and Wincanton during my stay but even that never got me to the excitement levels of sinking a long red.

Apparently named after former local piggeries, this is a modern estate pub with no obvious antecedent, nestled in the immediate shadow of Grenfell Tower. A first into this pub the other night, an utterly characterless split level venue. There’s an overall grey paint scheme, jukebox, sports commentary, flashing games machines, horse racing on the multiple TVs; some man on the lower right-hand level was shouting into a mic, the whole amounting to sensory overload, in what is something of an alcohol fuelled bear pit; I’d almost go as far as likening it to the Cantina in Star Wars. There’s food, but it amounts to boiled bacon and cabbage, otherwise Sunday roasts. Customers are resolutely local, young and old, some a bit chavvy. There’s no real ale of course, me opting for a half of Carlsberg (£2.30), served by a taciturn landlady who was more interested in chatting to regulars than serving outsiders, slapping my change (minimum £10 for card) onto the wet bar top without uttering a word. This is an exceptionally poor pub indeed and not feeling comfortable from the outset, I was very glad to leave. It’s a shoe-in for Worst Pub of 2023 and a strong contender for Worst Pub Ever; the Garden Bar down the road couldn’t be more different.